AN: Usual disclaimer, don't own HP, though I sometimes wish I did. And warning for implied character death. Not Hermione or dear Draco, so you can breathe easy.

Hermione was travelling down an impossibly long tunnel, footsteps echoing into what seemed to be an endless expanse of darkness. It was a familiar friend now, the welcoming cover of night - and somehow in the dark she found that it was easier to believe in what seemed so pretentious in the light of day. This was the life she was resigned to, this nightmarish masquerade. She was working now, though. She always seemed to be working.

It was different this time. Hermione felt it in her bones, in every fibre of her being. But it was clear, crystal clear what her instructions were - and she was to carry it out. Perfunctorily, professionally, as usual.

It was simple. Get there, finish it, and get out. After all, how many people had lain gasping at her feet, pleading, hoping for some benignancy on her part, begging for her to let them live?

She prayed for their salvation. And her own, while she was at it.

She had arrived at the end of the tunnel, and by the light of her wand she glimpsed what seemed to be a door - the exit to wherever she was headed to that night.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione took hold of the door handle as it glowed bright blue, and with that all-too familiar wrench in her stomach, she was off.

She landed softly in a clearing. Her enhanced senses quickly adjusted to the environment. Some movement to the left, followed by the cracking of branches under feet. This was it.

Hermione took a firm grip on her wand and made her way through the thick undergrowth on her left. Whoever it was had sensed her arrival and was attempting to make a quick escape. Too late for that, Hermione considered, fingering her wand carefully.

The person had stopped. Hermione stepped forward, taking in the scene before her. A hooded figure stood, cornered, in the undergrowth, as Harry pointed his wand directly at her.

"You should have known this was coming,'' he said coldly.

The figure backed away, afraid. Hermione moved closer, her eyes flashing dangerously as she steeled herself for what she was about to do.

"We don't take any nonsense from moles who go astray. And that you have done. So, I guess you understand the consequences. An utter waste, in my opinion.''

Hermione moved closer and scrutinised the face of her prey, carefully, searching for a little shred of remorse, but all she could see was fear.

''No, you got it wrong, this isn't," the girl tried to defend herself, her arms flailing weakly as she backed further into the thick undergrowth.

"Like I mentioned, extremely regrettable.''

Three days later, the Auror office received news that the information was wrong - the unrest was not because the mole had sold the Ministry out.

And for no reason, Luna Lovegood was dead.

That was the last straw.

Hermione had had enough with all of it. All the scheming and hatching of another elaborate plan, another surefire way to wipe them out. She felt like a Death Eater herself - and all she saw when she closed her eyes was the blood dripping from her hands, as that damned scene replayed in her mind. Those innocent, fear-stricken eyes, that final gasp for breath - and then she was no more. That wonderful girl she had linked arms with while shopping on Oxford Street, the girl who'd taught her how to smoke feather-covered cigarettes filled with radish and marijuana, six feet under.

She had killed her in cold blood. In the name of justice, in the name of a cause she had always believed in, a cause that she would once have gladly given up her life for.

To hell with the Ministry and the Auror office. To hell with whatever bright future she had been promised. It was nonsense - every bit of it - and Hermione was throwing in the towel, washing her hands off this dirty business, but she knew in her heart of hearts that her past was as sullied as theirs.

Our Father in heaven,

hallowed be your name,

your kingdom come,

your will be done,

on earth as in heaven.

Give us today our daily bread.

Forgive us our sins

as we forgive those who sin against us.

Save us from the time of trial

and deliver us from evil.

For the kingdom, the power, and the glory are yours

now and for ever.

Amen.

---

Hermione jerked awake, gasping for air, as she awoke to the darkness of her bedroom. Another blasted nightmare, another fragment of her past that simply refused to die.

She sat up slowly in bed, flipping the covers aside. She was suffocating and her head was aching terribly - it was warm, too warm, and she needed some air. Fumbling for the clock on her bedside table, she brought it up to her bleary eyes.

"Nine already." She shook her head to clear her mind of the receding darkness that the nightmare had wrought, and drew the curtains with a flick of her wand. Getting out of bed clumsily, she shuffled to the bathroom to wash up. In the steam of the hot water that gushed out of the tap, she scrutinised herself in the mirror. There she was, Hermione Granger, twenty-five going on twenty-six, and halfway to hell. Splashing more hot water onto her pale, gaunt face, she watched as her skin seemed to regain some color before she headed downstairs.

It took much effort for her to plaster a smile on her face as she greeted the customers as they whisked in and out the door throughthe day. She did not speak to Draco, though, despite the warm smile that he flashed her as he sauntered through the door. Hermione was in no mood for his snide remarks or his clever retorts - it was just not her day.

It was simply ironic how the only warmth and familiarity she obtained was from someone whom she positively hated during her Hogwarts days. He had warmed up to her gradually over these five years, bantering playfully over her morning coffee, smiling at her every now and then from his seat in the corner. It was comforting, sometimes, to see someone she knew amongst the unfamiliar faces that went in and out of the bookstore, but it was simply awkward, seeing that they were hardly friends. But it seemed that they were both seeking some sort of solace, some peace and quiet from the maelstrom that continued to rage outside. Things were far from peaceful in the wizarding world, but within Hermione's little kingdom, everything was fine. And these five years, Draco, like her, had shared the peace that this haven had to offer them, however transient it was.

It was still strange, however, how he rose from his armchair that evening, a certain strangeness in the way he regarded her. He did not simply leave, but walked right toward her, and she put down her book and forced a weak smile.

"Goodnight, Draco. See you tomorrow." Hermione got to her feet and reached for her wand to begin her routine cleanup.

He cleared his throat rather loudly, and she turned to face him, surprised.

"I was just wondering, Hermione, since you seem to have nothing to do at night," A playful smile graced his lips as he continued, "Would you care to have dinner with me tonight?"

The throbbing headache that the nightmare had given her had lasted throughout the day and was showing no signs of going off, and Hermione was tired. But for some reason that she could not fathom, she said yes.

AN: Hope y'all find it fine so far. A lot of other things are going to happen, though. After all, it's romance/mystery. So yep. Hope you enjoy it, and let me know what you think. (:

Meanwhile, perhaps I'll reply my reviews here! That makes things a whole lot easier.

Thank you SO MUCH for the encouragement, its great to know people are actually reading the stuff I write here. I basically wanted this to be rather...different, so I'm glad you guys think its good. (: And halogirl810, Ron and Hermione...I'll elaborate on them in the later chapters (: But by now its pretty plain to see that all of them (the characters) aren't that simple - as with all of mankind I suppose - so I guess, sorry for people who were looking forward to a pleasant Hermione and Draco...not gonna happen for now. (; Hope you guys enjoy the rest of the story, haha.